


Toxicity

by MisterEAnon



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Gen, Mad Doctoring to be technical about it, Mad Science, Primal Regression, Transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 17:24:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9395600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MisterEAnon/pseuds/MisterEAnon
Summary: Alternate title: Midnicampum holicithias, or: How I Learned To Stop Testing And Hate The Flower.One doctor is determined to understand the secrets of Nighthowler, so that the terrorism that plagued her city because of it cannot happen again.Her assistant is less enthused with the fact she's determined to do so by applying the toxin to herself.(Written for Thematric Thursday. Theme: Illness.)





	

“For the record, I still think this is a terrible idea.”

 

I pressed my paws up against the thick glass separating us. “Objection noted,” I replied, leaning up to try to peek at his clipboard. “Any further objections?”

 

The little armadillo peeked up from the experiment notes, giving me a dull look. “Many. Including but not limited to the fact that the last time you worked with Night Howlers, you nearly got arrested.”

 

I shook my head. “Lionheart got arrested because he was illegally keeping mammals prisoner.” With good reason, of course, but he should have gone through the proper channels to  _ make _ it legal. “I wasn't aware that he was performing his actions illegally, and I was doing my best to free said mammals by curing them.”

 

My assistant raised an eyebrow at me. “Your lawyer make you memorize that?”

 

My paw rubbed at back of my neck. “Does it show? Look, Fritz, this is important work we're doing here. Nobody knows what we're attempting to find out.”

 

He sighed. “Whatever you say, Doctor Badger. If you kill yourself doing this, I won't be held accountable, you know.”

 

I waved a paw. “Of course not. I signed a few papers just in case, they're in my desk. Do we have everything we need on your side? And call me Madge.”

 

My armored assistant glanced down. “Experiment notes, questions, microphone… Looks good here. Now make sure  _ you _ didn't forget the antidote.”

 

I put my paw on my chin. “Antidote, antidote… I could swear I put it on my shopping list. Must have slipped my mind,” I replied. Seeing that my partner wasn't amused, though, I gave a slight cough and pulled the bottle of pills from the pocket of my coat. “Yes, I have them. Twenty-five pills designed to nullify the effects of Midnicampum Holicithias toxicity in mammals. Recommended dosage, two.”

 

He idly lifted the pen from his clipboard. “Can't you call them Night Howlers like everyone else?”

 

I just shrugged in response. “I could, but that's what you're going to be writing down in the official notes.”

 

Fritz just shook his head. “Right. I'll make sure to Zoogle the correct spelling before I put them on file. Anything else?”

 

Behind me lay the rest of the experiment's components. The actual night howler injection, A Roebuck's cube, and sheets of paper with a pencil. Fritz would be taking the actual experiment notes, but I would be writing my own copy at the same time for comparison's sake. A small clock had been set up on the floor on the other side of the glass for my sake. And- “Why is there a crossword in here?”

 

The armadillo shrugged. “You said you weren't going to bring your phone in there in case it got broken. I didn't want you to get bored.”

 

The presence of a newspaper folded over into the crossword section wouldn't really invalidate the results, I supposed. “Right. Well, start the recording- I'm ready to begin.”

 

I waited for the  _ click _ , and padded over. “Fritz, mark down the current time,” I called over from across the cell as I stood next to the needle. I was a little anxious being so close to it. “Administering antidote, time release capsule. Estimated time to dissolution… Two hours.” I was still holding the bottle, so I opened it and tipped out a few pills into my paw, nudging the excess back into the bottle and dry-swallowing the appropriate dose.

 

Ugh. I wished I had thought to bring a disposable plastic cup of water in or something. I screwed the cap back on- Choking hazard, just in case- And stuffed it back into my labcoat with one paw, picking up the syringe of purified Midnicampum Holicithias toxin. And it was of a reasonable concentration, unlike the twenty pounds of flowers per dose that madwoman used. I flicked the needle, carefully eying it to make sure no bubbles had built up. “Administering toxin.”

 

“You know, most of the time it's a bad thing when doctors announce they're poisoning someone,” muttered my assistant from his side of the glass. I ignored him as I guided the needle into my arm, depressing the plunger. Aiming for a vein was less a matter of sight and more a matter of memorization, when it came to dealing with fur.

 

There. I put the cap back on the syringe, and rolled it under the bed as a precaution. I could retrieve it after the experiment, and it probably wasn't wise to have something sharp immediately available if things went wrong. “Toxin administered. Press your notes against the glass,” I instructed, picking up the paper and pencils from the ground.

 

The rest of the tests could wait until there would be noticeable effect. According to my calculations, I had between an hour to an hour and a half before the full effects of the toxin would be upon me. As such, I would have ample time to record my thoughts on the progressing sickness, as well as recording physiological data that would be impossible to take with a more rapid poisoning.

 

Now was a good time to take a baseline however- My normal biometrics were already on file, confirmed before we started, and I could test my dexterity with my handwriting. In theory, anyway. I squinted at the crisp paper pressed against the glass. “Fritz, you write like a doctor.”

 

“Thank you?” he ventured quietly.

 

“That was not a compliment.” I copied down what he'd written anyway, ignoring the most illegible words and guessing them based on context. Once I was finished, I nodded. “Done. Resume taking notes- First experiment will take place fifteen minutes post-injection.”

 

( * * * )

 

I was starting to think my assistant had a point about getting bored. Still, it was time for the first test. “Administering dexterity test,” I announced for the sake of the recording. “The time is fifteen minutes post-injection.”

 

I picked up the Roebuck's Cube. It was a failed experiment by Doctor Roebuck, an attempt by the deer to demonstrate that manual dexterity could be improved through practice. Unfortunately, repetition hadn't made it any easier for his hooves to hold onto the cube. It had found success as a commercially marketed toy, though. I squinted at it, and started shifting the pieces around.

 

Honestly, I didn't know how to use these things. But there had to be some kind of logic to them, I was sure of it.

 

Three minutes into my fiddling, Fritz spoke up. “You know, there's a trick to that.”

 

I twitched my ears. “That's irrelevant. The purpose of this test is to determine my ability in precise dexterity, something which I will note for the record to be apparently unaffected at this point in time.

 

He shrugged. “Just putting it out there. What's next?”

 

( * * * )

 

“The time is half an hour post-injection.”

 

I slumped against the glass wall separating me from my assistant. I was starting to understand his point with the crossword. “You have the questions?” I'd be writing down my answers as well as verbally answering, mostly for comparison's sake.

 

“Yeah,” came the voice from behind me. “Any changes?”

 

Right. “The first symptom from the Midnicampum Holicithias toxin-”

 

“Nighthowler.”

 

I turned around to glare at him. “ _ Midnicampum Holicithias toxin, _ ” I repeated, “Would appear to be accelerated heart-rate, followed by minor physical anxiety. The second appears to be the onset of elevated body temperature.” I sat down on the floor in front of him, scooping up my pencil and dragging my notes in front of me. “Administer the questions.”

 

“They aren't drugs. You mean ask?”

 

I rubbed my temples, vaguely wondering how my assistant had gotten through medical school. Or was getting through medical school; I didn't remember. It didn't seem important. “Yes, I mean ask.”

 

“First question: You're reading a magazine. You come across a full-page nude photo of a girl. You show it to your husband. He likes it so much, he hangs it on your bedroom wall. The girl is lying on a skunk-butt rug.“

 

I furrowed my brow. “I don't have a husband… And why on earth would anyone want to own a skunk-butt rug? That's the worst kind of fur rug imaginable.” Plus, people who made furniture out of their own shed and cut fur were  _ weird _ . “That isn't even a question.”

 

“Question two: Describe in single words, only the good things that come into your mind about your mother.”

 

I sighed. “Asking me about my mother?  _ Really? _ Fritz, Freud was discredited-”

 

“ _ Single words _ , please.” The armadillo looked bored. I don't know why… At least he was allowed to have an internet connection while we waited for time to elapse.

 

“Fine.” How did I consider my mother? “Caring. Supportive. Protective.” That woman could give actual bears a run for their money. I'd never really needed the kind of extra support she'd offered, but she'd given it all the same. I scribbled down the questions and answers both, grimacing at the paper as I noticed my handwriting becoming notably worse then what I'd written down at the start.

 

“Uh-huh. Last question for now. Ahem…” He held up the written questions in front of him. “Oh, no! You've been exposed to radiation, and a mutated paw has grown out of your stomach! What's the best course of treatment?”

 

What? “I- Large doses of anti-mutagen agent, obviously, but  _ who wrote these questions? _ ”

 

Fritz lowered the sheet to look me in the eye. “You did, doctor.”

 

I shook my head. “I really didn't.”

 

“Memory tested, result fine…” he muttered, scribbling at his notes. “And now we wait.”

 

( * * * )

 

“Only flying mammal,” I questioned.

 

“Bat,” he answered back. “Who doesn't know that?”

 

I shrugged, scribbling the answer into the crossword. “I don't know. Obviously, whoever did today's crossword has never been to the nocturnal district. “Greasy.”

 

“Greasy?” he questioned, looking up from his laptop.

 

“Greasy,” I confirmed. “What kind of a hint is  _ greasy _ ? Bah, I'm skipping it. Time is… Forty five minutes post-injection. Symptoms include… Continued accelerated heart-rate…” I had to stop and think about each problem. I felt… Slower then usual. “Elevated body temperature, as- As predicted. Trouble focusing.” I wiped my brow. “Hold on. I'm taking my shirt off.”

 

The armadillo peeked past his screen with something that looked like mild alarm. “Iiii don't think I signed up for this, Doctor.”

 

I growled at him. “Well, you're not the one being cooked from the inside,” I retorted, scowling. I tugged my labcoat off, flicking it… away from me, not at anything in particular. The bottle of pills in the pocket audibly rattled as it hit the floor. “Fine. Other symptoms include, uh…”

 

Fritz was staring at me. Waiting. I didn't like it. I turned away from him. “Other symptoms include aggressive impulses. I find myself far more easily annoyed by things that only irritate me a little otherwise.”

 

He wrote that down. “Aren't you supposed to be writing, too?” he asked, pointing his pen at where I'd left my own notes on the ground.

 

I huffed. “Why should I bother? You're writing them down for me, anyway,” I replied, crossing my arms. “You are my assistant, after all.”

 

He leaned forward a little, and my frown deepened. “You thought it was important when we started. Do you not think it's important now?”

 

I glanced at the papers. “I… I find it frustrating,” I admitted. “To see my skills decay so rapidly. It's frustrating and I don't like it.”

 

“Do you think you should keep doing it, even though it's frustrating?” he prompted, fishing his phone out with one paw and glancing at it as he wrote with the other.

 

I knew I thought it was important when we started. I knew my mind would be muddled when we did it. So I knew whatever I thought of before I was poisoned was probably a better assessment of the situation then whatever I could think of now.

 

It didn't keep me from scowling at the paper as I tried to write down what we'd been talking about. Precommitment was a bitch.

 

Once that was done, I picked up the crossword again. “Gazelle's hit of the year.”

 

He crossed his arms. “You can't tell me you don't know this one.”

 

My shoulders went up as I shrugged. “I don't listen to the radio much. Especially not pop.”

 

Fritz stared at me so hard I could practically feel it. “It's been everywhere!”

 

I rubbed my forehead with a paw. “I don't get out much?”

 

( * * * )

 

“Time is, ah… T-minus… Something,” I muttered.

 

“We're an hour in,” my assistant volunteered.

 

“Yeah, that. Manual dexterity has been… More or less lost by this point,” I stated. Once I realized that my handwriting was worse the armadillo's, I had gotten frustrated and snapped my pencil. That had rather put an end to my side of the notes. It was a good thing that the important notes were being done by him.

 

I squinted at the Roebuck's cube in my paws. Come on, I knew there was… I knew the colors were supposed to line up. Somehow. I couldn't get it to work and I hated it. I had been fiddling with it for ten minutes now, and if I was making any progress I couldn't tell.

 

“You know, you could just ask for the secret to those things,” My assistant pointed out. “It's pretty easy. All you have to do--”

 

“ **_Fuck you,”_ ** I snarled, hurling the plastic cube at the clear wall between us. It bounced off right in front of his face, making him recoil backwards, curling up into a ball.”

 

Shit. I didn't- I stood up, trying to ignore the way my body was shaking. I couldn't stop it. “Fritz- Fritz, please. I didn't mean it. Are you okay?” I questioned, stepping towards the glass.

 

The subject of my concern uncurled the slightest bit, only enough to peek out with me with a single eye. That looked deeply uncomfortable to me, but I wasn't an armadillo. I pressed my paw against the glass, letting my head follow suit, letting out a slow breath.

 

Slowly, Fritz rolled back onto his feet. “Are- Are you okay, Doctor Badger? Are you… Still with us?” He asked hesitantly, pressing his paw on the glass against mine.

 

I shook my head. It was just about the only shaking I meant to do. “No, I- I'm really not. It's just a stupid  _ fucking _ toy and it made me so mad,” I muttered, mostly to myself. “I'm so angry. And- And  _ you.” _

 

My assistant gave me a cautious look. “Me?”

 

“Yes, _ you. _ You're so close… I can see you. I can smell you on my clothes. You're too close.” I backed away. “I don't like it. I don't like you- I don't like you being here.” I felt the wall press against my back, and I screwed my eyes shut, putting my head in my paws.

 

My head hurt. I could barely focus on my words. All I could think about clearly was what was right in front of me- The sights, the scents. My lab coat smelled a little like him, so I turned away from it. It had gotten brighter in here- It had gotten  _ more _ , and I didn't like it. I didn't want it. My ears folded down

 

“Doctor-” Started the other mammal, before raising his voice. “Madge! Do you want me to get someone else--”

 

“No!” I burst out, shaking my head rapidly in my paws. “No. No one else. Don't want you, don't want anyone. Want to be alone- Need to be alone,” I replied, curling up against the wall. I didn't want to see him. I didn't want to hear him. It was too much.

 

Too much.

 

( * * * )

 

“It's, uh… T-minus one hour fifteen minutes since injection,” announced the armadillo across the room.

 

Why was he still here? I didn't want him here. I told him that. Why didn't he get it? “Stop looking at me,” I growled from my spot wedged behind the bed.

 

“I'm not looking at you, Madge,” he protested. I wasn't looking, but I knew that was wrong. Wrong wrong wrong.

 

“You're lying!” I accused. “I can feel it. You're watching me. Listening to me. You're waiting for me to  _ break. _ ”

 

The animal approached, and I hissed automatically. I didn't want him closer. I wanted him gone. “Madge, I think you're-

 

I threw myself at him, snarling. No! Why wouldn't he listen? Why couldn't I make him understand he was  **wrong?** That everything was  **wrong? “Go! Go go gooooorrrlllll,”** I snarled, slamming into the wall between us.

 

He squeaked, rolled up into a ball before he hit the floor. No. Not good enough. I needed him gone gone gone gone. I clawed at the glass, hissing as my claws glanced off. I needed him gone. I needed to be alone all alone and safe with him gone all gone.

 

I needed to get out. I reared back, and slammed my head into the glass, to no effect. No! Needed… Needed to be stronger. To be free. To be  **safe** .

 

I hit it again. And again. Hurt. Hurt bad. But he needed to be  **gone** and he wasn't  **gone** and it wasn't acceptable I wasn't safe and  **I hated him.** I hated him for making me not safe and I wanted him gone because I wanted to  **make him gone** .

 

I shuffled backwards, and charged, my head connecting with the glass

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


( * * * )

 

“Doctor Badger? Madge… Wake up. Please, wake up.”

 

I groaned. Agh, fuck-- “Why does my head hurt so much?”

 

The animal was back. But I recognized him. It was Fritz- Why didn't I remember who he was, before? He looked… Scared. I understood that expression, again. I didn't know if he was scared for himself, or for me. “Madge, is it you? Are you back with us?” He questioned tentatively, leaning back as if he was afraid I was going to attack him.

 

I curled up into a ball. I had been right: This wasn't comfortable at all. “I want you to know… I hate crosswords.”

 

If he reacted, I didn't see it. “It's you?”

 

“I still don't know what the fuck  _ greasy _ was supposed to me- Ah, gentle, gentle,” I wheezed as I was suddenly hugged from behind. “Help me up.”

 

He did. As I accepted his paw into mine, I turned to look at him. “What, uh… What time is it?”

 

“T-minus two hours--”

 

“Fritz, the experiment's over,” I interrupted quietly as I started to walk away. “You don't have to name time like that.” Besides, T-minus wasn't even  _ right _ . If anything, it'd be T-plus.

“Right,” he agreed, catching up to me and walking at my side. “I woke you up as soon the antidote started to take hold. As soon as you told me it would be working, anyway.” He shuffled through his notes. Estimated time to dissolution, two hours. Did I say that? “I think I have a concussion.”

 

I felt his paw take mine. “Are you sure? You're walking okay,” he added, looking me over.

 

I glanced down. “Am I? I'm not sure at all. But I have a feeling. Lets, uh. Let's go get a second opinion from an actual doctor.” Physician, heal thyself my ass. “I think I'm going to prescribe myself some morphine.”

 

A paw touched my cheek, and I found my eyes meeting his as he tilted my head. “Are you sure that's a good idea? That's the strong stuff,” he murmured with concern.

 

“Please… Don't touch the head right now,” I replied, leaning away. “And yeah. You can't really tell, but that's about how much pain I'm in right now.” Thank god honey badgers didn't give a fuck, as the kids said these days. I might not be showing my pain externally, but I was  _ more then aware of it _ now that I was in my right mind again.

 

“Let's… Maybe run that by another doctor, too,” he replied, removing his paws from my cheeks. But he did put it on my shoulder next, which was better.

 

“Yeah, that sounds good.” I should probably leave the medical decisions to someone who could think clearly. “Which way do we go to the, uh...” Where were we going, anyway? Somewhere medic-y, but in the asylum or elsewhere?

 

“Why don't you just go ahead and follow me, instead?” Fritz offered, wrapping an arm around my shoulder to keep my steady.

 

Yeah. Yeah, that sounded good.


End file.
